


Cute Teen Gets Fucked by Society

by sanity_not_in_tact



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, also suicidal thoughts, and i did not like what i found, and references to another kid who went through something of a similar description, and the briefest tinyest little self-harm implication, and yeah if you got triggers then fren, bc i think this fic has enough dark themes don't you?, but it's pretty dark tho, but then i started thinking about what would actually make peter angry enough to swear, first spideypool fic, i am sorry for the title, i have a plan for more, i swear this was meant to be cute and light-hearted, i was going for black humour, i'm trying to do that thing where you balance humour and serious topics, idk fam it's pretty all over the place, kept that brief and vague, lemme know if i should continue it, might make it multichaptered, not explicit, not irl tho lol, realised that i'm funny in writing, so there's references to that thing that we all know happened to peter, there's a lot of swearing in this fic, which is a really risky thing to do, without undermining one or the other, you came to the wrong place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanity_not_in_tact/pseuds/sanity_not_in_tact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heard the kid crying for help one time when I'd just been bitten," Peter began.</p><p>{should we be happy that he's finally talking about this?}</p><p>"I caught the fucker -- jesus christ, I will never get that image out of my head -- and landed him in prison. Well, I helped. Anyway, he was released about a week ago, on account of him being due to die of some tumour in about a month. Nobody thought to tell me! In fact, there wasn't even a fucking news story. Nothing in the papers, online, or on the TV. Somebody was obviously trying to keep it quiet. The first I heard of it was an emergency call for a kid found passed out and nearly dead in the apartment I found him in the first time 'round. The kid's fine, if you could call it that -- which you can't, by the way. The kid is not fine -- but the father was found dead in a puddle of whiskey. Obviously drowned himself in alcohol before the tumour could kick in."</p><p>note: indefinite hiatus. sorry guys, i'm working on it. i've been wracking my brains as to how this could take a positive turn like i planned originally (i have thought of one mediocre scenario). may take a while since i'm currently in the process of 'getting my shit together, dammit.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cute Teen Gets Fucked by Society

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck, this was meant to be cute and sappy, i swear. like i honestly try so hard to write something light-hearted, but all the characters i write about are tragic. so help me, i am sorry for this.

I've seen, heard and felt that mouth do a lot of very creative things. You know we tried deep-throating once? Turns out Peter's freaky spidey-gag made the feat impossible... details, to be honest. The kid's almost as good with his tongue as I am... and they don't call me the merc with a mouth for nothing! Well, that's not technically why they call me that but that's just 'cause they haven't had their turn.  
  
Not to mention he's got an attitude almost to match mine. Okay, fine! So maybe he's a tad quicker than I am. No need to point it out, dipshit.  
  
My point is, he's sucked dick with that mouth... probably ate pussy. Can't contact Blondie from the afterlife but I'm sure she'd tell you. He's delivered snark with that mouth, he's eaten a ridiculous amount of lemon and cream tarts with that mouth -- seriously, what is it with the cream tarts? -- he's stuck his tongue half way down my throat and a couple other places with that mouth, I'd swear in front of Francie-Pants' Personal Post-Mortem Defence Squad (an actual thing) that I saw him try to sneakily lick the cake mix out of an electric mixer whisk with that mouth but I've never heard the sailor curse. Well, I had never heard him curse, until now. Because he just swore. A lot. Fuck, that's hot. Maybe it's an hallucination. Am I hallucinating? Guys?  
  
[who cares?]  
  
{fuck if I can tell the difference.}  
  
_Wait, wait, pay attention, he's still going._  
  
"Motherfucking piece of -- I can't think of an adequate insult!"  
  
"Duty calls! How about... dipshit, dingleberry dingus, cocksucker, cuntsucking fartknocker, shit-kicking minion-fucker... meninist, walking bag of day old asswhipes, kitten-kicker, puppy-hitter -- those last two are harsh -- dickheaded windbag, and then there's the incest-related insults -- motherfucker, brothernutter, sistersucker, cousinerutter -- shall I start on the Ku Klux Klan related-  
  
"No! I think I'm good, thanks."  
  
"But don't stop! What are we cursing about?"  
  
"That good-for-nothing, drunk-ass-"  
  
"Ooh! i have one for a drunk, how about Captain Whiskey Dick? Or-"  
  
"-Fucker that I didn't get to personally blow the brains out of before he carked it over a bottle of whiskey."  
  
_Now that is not a spidey-typical thing to say._  
  
[that is actually legitimately terrifying]  
  
{i don't know what to do.}  
  
[make a joke]  
  
{you're a genius. seriously, you should start one of those dummy lifehack books}  
  
"Uh... Petey? Where the fuck is this coming from?"  
  
"You're one to give a lecture on clean language!" Scary, scary, scary look on that face. And that's with the goddamn mask on. By this point I'm worried because since when has he ever snapped at me for literally anything. "Never said that. I'm just saying... I have never even heard you say 'shit'." My hands are up in that annoying defensive thing that sexist assholes do when anyone tries to call them out on their bullshit. You know the one. What else am I meant to do? I'm not exactly lanky but spidey's enhanced.

[aroused and a tad terrified. groundbreaking]  
  
{first time it's come from spidey, though}  
  
I watched as he ripped his mask off and fell back on the couch, doing that adorable eye-rub thingie with his fists except this time it was terrifying.  
  
"You know you're scary like this, Spidey?"  
  
He looked at me way too close to the way I tended to look at Ajax and I freaked the fuck out, not gonna lie.  
  
[shit]  
  
{can we run? Let's run. This dude can take on Captain America, we should skidaddle before he does something he'll regret.}  
  
[wait so did we just establish that this is the Tom Holland spidey?]  
  
{fuck knows, the author can't read comics so none of us knows whether he's taken Cap on in one of the comic versions. anyways, that's not important}  
  
[not important my ass! what happened to our undying devotion to Andrew Garfield?]  
  
"Guys, can we have this conversation at a later time?"  
  
Peter's eyes went all sappy. It was weird, a mixture of intense rage and an apology looks really fucked on anyone's face.  
  
"Sorry, I know I'm acting weird."  
  
"Yeah, kid. You're acting like me. Please stop acting like me."  
  
Peter chuckled darkly. Fucking _chuckled. **Darkly.**_  
  
[we still in the MCU? sure this ain't venom-spidey?]  
  
{we're in a fanfic, dipshit. rules don't apply. do you see any horrifically long tongues anywhere? plus we don't even technically exist in the MCU}  
  
"Shut up, now is not the time to argue about film rights." Did I say that out loud?  
  
{yep}  
  
[that's gotta be really confusing with no context]  
  
{yeah if everything we say wasn't batshit, maybe we wouldn't be criminally insane, dumbass}  
  
[chill with the commas this ain't an essay]  
  
{what the fuck is this conversation}  
  
"Ugh, Peter? The voices are going nuts, what're you so pissed about?"  
  
[you know what, dick move! throwing us into this mess and leaving us to figure out where the fuck we are and in which timeline]  
  
{everyone else handles it}  
  
[yeah, well, self-awareness is a burden]  
  
"Sorry, Wade. Actually, no I'm not. I don't care. I'm tired." He looked it, too. Dead eyes, hair all ruffled up and squirming around in the uncomfortable spandex. All that jazz.  
  
"Do you... do you want to sleep?" His eyes followed my arm as I waved it in the direction of the bedroom. Like a kitten following a piece of string. But scarier.  
  
"Not gonna happen."  
  
"What the fuck happened to you? Should I be worried?"  
  
"Yeah, but not about me."  
  
[??????????]  
  
{/////////}  
  
[you didn't press shift, dipshit]  
  
{that's the fourth time we've used that word in one fic, and i can't be held responsible for the author's mistakes}  
  
_I want to scream._  
  
"Don't ask, Wade. Just piss off back to your murder cave like you normally would, I can't face this right now."  
  
{wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong}  
  
[are we seriously reaching for a handgun right now?]  
  
{oh shit oh shit he saw us}  
  
[just when are you gonna get on board with the whole spidey-sense situation?]  
  
Peter sighed. Which is comforting. Normal responses are a good sign, right?  
  
"Stop, Wade. It's okay, I'm not going to attack you."  
  
[yeah that's real reassuring]  
  
{can you maybe chill}  
  
[how bout maybe you-]  
  
"Uhhh, wait, what was I going to say? Sorry, the voices are fucking me up."  
  
"Dude, I'm trying to relax. I'm just tense, okay? I'm not-so-subtly suggesting that you drag your ass somewhere else so I can deal with this without an audience. Capisce?"  
  
"Nah, see, I'm not going anywhere with you acting like that."  
  
"I promise you I'm not going to talk about it, no matter what you do."  
  
"Never said I was gonna make you talk. Who the fuck do you think I am, your psychiatrist? Sheesh."  
  
"Then why are you still here?"  
  
"Because I tend to make stunningly stupid decisions when I'm acting like you are and you've got a conscience to match a virgin catholic boy."  
  
"What are you gonna do about it?"  
  
[that tone is fucking weird. make it stop.]  
  
{well they do say it's natural to feel weird when you hear a recording of your own voice and that sounds _freakishly_ like us}  
  
"Nothing, but you're not about to act like an idiot if you've got an audience. You got a couple ounces more of self-respect than I do."  
  
[was that self-deprecating?]  
  
{yeah but it fell short}  
  
[damn it's awkward when we do that]  
  
Spidey sighed again. Heavy on the sighing today.  
  
"I'm tired, Wade. Can you please just leave me alone?"  
  
[sounds suspiciously like what we say when we're about to blow our brains out]  
  
{can you lighten up a little?}  
  
"No."  
  
[your stubborn ass will be the death of you]  
  
{we can't die}  
  
[you don't know that]  
  
{oh, we're going to the couch}  
  
[shouldn't we stay, you know, on the other side of the room, away from spidey?]  
  
{*shrugs*}  
  
[since when can you do actions?]  
  
{since the author got used to writing tumblr script posts}  
  
[that's pathetic]  
  
{shh spidey's speaking}  
  
"Yeah, you may sit here, thanks for asking," Peter spat.  
  
[don't say anything]  
  
{seriously dude don't comment}  
  
"Uh... Spidey?"  
  
[here he goes]  
  
{you are he, idiot}  
  
Spidey grunted.  
  
_Does that mean I should keep speaking or is he telling me to shut up?_  
  
"I've just... I mean, you've seen hell. I didn't think there was anything left that could make you this angry. Did something happen to you? Not to sound concerned about your wellbeing, but are you okay?"  
  
"Just promise me you're not the sort to hurt innocent people for your own enjoyment."  
  
"Well, not innocent people. Since when are we all serious? I'm really confused and kind of scared."  
  
[awe poor pup]  
  
{i wish i could hurt you asshole}  
  
"Stop freaking out, Wade. I'm doing enough of that for the two of us. Sorry, I'm letting my emotions control me."  
  
"Nothing wrong with that but you're an enhanced spider-human hybrid, letting out that anger might just end in someone's head getting knocked in."  
  
"Since when do you care?"  
  
[ouch]  
  
{you always have to be the first to speak}  
  
[nah it's just easier because you don't have to press the shift key to get a square bracket]  
  
"Since you suddenly became a strong contender for the role of the attacker."  
  
"Shut up, Wade. I'm not gonna hurt anybody. That's just what I'm mad about."  
  
"You... what?"  
  
"Nothing. Forget it. You of all people know how fucked-up the world is. It's not news to you."  
  
[he's got a point]  
  
{shit is he crying?}  
  
[what the fuck are we meant to do when he starts crying?]  
  
"Uh... " The merc with a mouth, lost for words. It's kinda uncomfortable, sitting there, on the couch. Spidey's just, you know, crying and I'm really lost and kinda freaked out. What are you meant to do in that kind of situation?  
  
"Turn the TV on."  
  
"Uh, okay." Yeah, I did what he asked; flicked it on to some crappy drama. He snatches the remote to switch it over to CNN.  
  
At this point I really hate Jameson. Always have, but hatred turned to wishing death on him when I got to know the 'vigilante' beneath the spandex. So, his face pisses me off. Nothing new. But, this time, the shit he's saying hits me like a bitch-slap from She-Hulk.  
  
_"- man charged with child molestation, of his own son, no less, was released last week, only to be found dead this evening in his apartment. It appears he died of alcohol poisoning, but not before he put his son in hospital. No word on how Spider-Man's passive behaviour has affected the police's stance on who is obviously a criminal, and who never fails to prove how little he cares for anything that isn't on his own agenda."_  
  
I feel like kicking the screen in, but I settle for snatching the remote back and switching it off.  
  
[what the actual fuck is going on]  
  
{how has spidey got anything to do with this?}  
  
"Yeah, that's a good point. Uh, Pete, honey... how're you involved in this?"  
  
[damn he looks tired]  
  
{maybe that means he'll just give up and tell us what the fuck is going on}  
  
"Heard the kid crying for help one time when I'd just been bitten," Peter began.  
  
{should we be happy that he's finally talking about this?}  
  
"I caught the fucker -- Jesus Christ, I will never get that image out of my head -- and landed him in prison. Well, I helped. Anyway, he was released about a week ago, on account of him being due to die of some tumour in about a month. Nobody thought to tell me! In fact, there wasn't even a fucking news story. Nothing in the papers, online, or on the TV. Somebody was obviously trying to keep it quiet. The first I heard of it was an emergency call for a kid found passed out and nearly dead in the apartment I found him in the first time 'round. The kid's fine, if you could call it that -- which you can't, by the way. The kid is not fine -- but the father was found dead in a puddle of whiskey. Obviously drowned himself in alcohol before the tumour could kick in."  
  
"So... why is the media blaming you?"  
  
"They may have covered up the man's release, but his initial imprisonment was headlined with my name plastered to it, and apparently two years isn't long enough for people to forget my involvement. Anyway, my public image doesn't matter. The boy's in hospital, Wade. All because someone tried to cover this up."  
  
"Could someone have wanted the boy dead? Did the injuries look like they were meant to be fatal?"  
  
"Who the fuck wants a thirteen year-old dead? His injuries were deliberate alright, but they weren't meant to be fatal."  
  
"Shit this is fucked-up."  
  
Peter shrugged, "Happens everywhere, every day."  
  
That's not really what I meant, although the case is admittedly pretty fucked-up. What I meant was that somehow Peter had got roped into the whole mess, way back when he was seventeen, and now the press is blaming him for it.  
  
[why does this shit always happen to baby boy]  
  
{because the idiot chases after it}  
  
[hey, if you had superhearing, and you heard an eleven-year-old crying out, would you do nothing to stop the creep?]  
  
{i'd probably slice the motherfucker's fingers off and make him eat them in a sushi roll}  
  
[seriously, what is wrong with you? why, man? i'd just paint is fucking brains all over the walls and be done with it]  
  
{how about... both}  
  
[both. both is good]  
  
"That's not really what I meant... You went after this kind of thing when you were seventeen?"  
  
"Of course, that's what you'd take away from this conversation."  
  
"Shit, that's fucked-up. You seem all innocent and blissfully ignorant, you know? Turns out you're really fucking not. I did not see that coming when I was pining."  
  
He didn't answer for a long time. The silence was torture. I was just about to settle down for the night, assuming that he didn't want to talk, when he spoke. Goddamn I wish he fucking didn't.  
  
"It's just... this case has always hit close to home." He's stopped crying at this point, but he looks exhausted. He runs his hands through his hair, giving me way too much time to realise where this conversation is going.  
  
"It was bad enough seeing that happen to someone else, but now he got out to do something even worse, and people are blaming me for this mess. Can't help but believe Jameson, to be honest."  
  
{why are we so surprised by this??? it's a tumblr-known fact that the old comics made a point of him going through something similar when he was younger}  
  
[I think we're confused because this fic was meant to be fluffy and ridiculous]  
  
{back to the crisis at hand}  
  
[what're we meant to say?]  
  
{can't help you there. we went through similar shit, though. maybe that'll be some consolation?}  
  
[nooooo we are NOT telling spidey about that sheesh]  
  
{okay! calm down it was just a suggestion}  
  
"I spoke to the kid in the hospital. You know, mask off, the whole deal. He said that he felt like it was his fault, because of something his father had made him believe. Really put my own memories into perspective. You don't question it until you see someone else go through it." His shoulders are all tense and I can tell he's holding his breath. Neither of us are kidding ourselves that he hadn't just admitted something. I wonder if he's told anybody else?  
  
[not important]  
  
"Uh... What do you want me to say?"  
  
{brilliant! we are so good at this. smfh}  
  
[internet slang hip with the kids]  
  
{oh my god this is a serious situation. shut up}  
  
"Nothing. I don't want you to say anything. I just want to take some really strong sedatives and forget this shit happened for couple hours."  
  
[me too kid]  
  
{yikes. how old do you think he was when he-}  
  
[don't go there. nuh-uh. I am too traumatised for this shit right now]  
  
"We don't have anything strong stocked." I said out loud, in an attempt to think over the internal domestic.  
  
"I know, and I'm too tired to figure out how to get my hands on some."  
  
"You'll just have to get to sleep without them."  
  
"How do you suppose I'm going to manage that?"  
  
[are we really gonna do this?]  
  
{is this really the best time to get all mushy?}  
  
[actually on second thought this is the perfect time to get all mushy]  
  
{if we get him to sleep soon enough maybe we'll have enough time to blow our brains out before this becomes a permanent memory}  
  
[damn, i thought you were supposed to be the non-self-distructive one]  
  
{i think the blowing-our-brains-out option is actually a self-service}  
  
[shitty thing to do, though. Peter just bared his soul}  
  
{since when do we have a morale?}  
  
[okay we're doing this]  
  
I take his hand and pull him up off the couch with me. He groans in protest, but seems too tired to do much else. I drag him over to the bedroom, tearing my mask off on the way, and pull out a bunch of sleeping clothes and throw them his way, then quickly get changed myself.  
  
By the time I'm done with the internal self-hatred spiel -- you know the drill -- and got into something more comfortable, he's just standing there in his bed clothes shaking slightly and obviously too dazed to consider climbing into bed.  
  
{wow this is getting too much}  
  
[he looks as tired as we feel]  
  
_The exhaustion's going to get a lot worse if the voices don't fuck the shut up._  
  
[meeeeemes]  
  
{we are going to shoot ourselves. i can't stand another second of this}  
  
[dude not right now that's nasty]  
  
I grab his hand again and he slumps onto the bed. I tuck him in and then curl up behind him. We never do this, it just feels unnatural, most of the time. Tonight, it's just a relief.  
  
[why don't we do this more often?]  
  
{i don't know fam. let's just roll with it.}  
  
"Thanks," Pete says. His voice is all adorably sleepy and I can barely understand him.  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Not ditching me. It's been known to happen."  
  
[so he has told other people]  
  
{and they ditched him for it}  
  
[can we die now?]  
  
"Damn, I'm never gonna ditch you for something like that, Peter."  
  
[we wouldn't ditch him even if he turned out to be even more of a psychopath than us no doubt]  
  
{is that even possible?}  
  
[apparently]  
  
{nope curly brackets out}  
  
[dude are you seriously leaving?]  
  
{...}  
  
[sweet!]  
  
I wrap an arm around his middle, and he wriggles under the covers adorably. He actually does look like he could get to sleep. In fact, yep, he's asleep. Who knew he just needed a cuddle?  
  
[you know what that means...]  
  
Well, fuck. Curly's gone, but if I'm gonna get rid of square-  
  
[yes yes i'm liking where this is going]  
  
_Sicko._  
  
[i won't shut up 'till you do it, pal]  
  
_Peter's going to kill me. This is the last thing he needs right now._  
  
[the killing part will already be accounted for and he doesn't have to know]  
  
_He will find out._  
  
[sshhh whatever happened to going with the tide? after all, there aren't any actual consequences]  
  
_That's not true. Pete's already torn up, this would just be the icing on the cake._  
  
[and we're back to 'he doesn't have to know']  
  
_Fuck you and your stupid logic._  
  
[you know buddy there's a less catastrophic alternative. and we don't scar so...]  
  
Holy shit where is my mind going right now. I think I almost miss Curly. I carefully climb out of bed despite myself, and grab the smallest hand-gun. Hopefully it'll be a while before Peter notices that it's missing.  
  
[you know after careful consideration I think it's the undying dedication to the Russo's that has changed the author's mind on this one]  
  
_Back to this topic? Hate to break it to you, but I think this is called dissociation._  
  
[... anyways. I mean Tom Holland is sweet and funny not gonna lie but i think it's the ingenuity of this particular characterisation that turns me on.]  
  
_So, what's happening here? Are you speaking as the author, are you actually the author themself, or do you just agree with the author?_  
  
I carefully make my way out into the living room, creep down the hall and approach the door, silently debating how I am going to get the door open and close it behind me without waking up somebody with enhanced hearing.  
  
[i don't know, man. this fic is a mess of confusing POVs and wall-breaks]  
  
_Not to mention bad grammar._  
  
[nah that's just me. i talk like a text message. back to the point. you know nobody really appreciates the writers. the Russo's are geniuses and none of it would have happened without them but the producers didn't actually write the film in this case]  
  
I'm trying to silently turn the handle and pull the annoyingly creaky door open when the sound of someone clearing their throat makes me jump and spin around.  
  
"And where do you think you're going?"  
  
[welp. that's a real shame buddy. have fun with that argument. back to the writers! the author had to google their names, that's how little they're appreciated. there are five credits on imdb, but the screenplay writers are Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely. Hah! McFeely. ridiculous name]  
  
"Uh..." I slapped the side of my head in an attempt to get square to shut up without asking him to out loud. "Just going out to, uhm, just going out?"  
  
[damn lemme grab the popcorn this is about to get heated]  
  
"Yeah, that was very convincing, Wade." Peter's webbing the door shut, and twists his arm around his middle to web the window, as well.  
  
"Damn, that's just condescending."  
  
"Where were you going, really?" He's starting to look angry again, and this time I can't run even if I wanted to.  
  
[hooboy. this is the usual kind of pissed-off-at-wade behaviour. we're no better at dealing with this tbh]  
  
_Where's curly when I need her._  
  
[what, now you miss her?]  
  
"Shut up, square, you're gonna get me in trouble." It isn't until Pete raises one annoyed eyebrow that I realise I said that out loud, again.  
  
[you know we could just do it here. he'd be pissed but it would do the job]  
  
"Fuck no, I'm not going to traumatise baby boy on a rough day."  
  
" _Wade?_ What was that you just said?" He folds his arms and fixes me with one of those mother-stares that shouldn't be possible on a nineteen-year-old boy's face.  
  
[ah fuck]  
  
_Shit._  
  
"Fuck."  
  
"Yeah, 'fuck' is about right."  
  
[i'm keeping my promise you know. not gonna shut up 'till you do it]  
  
_So you want me to do it right here, right now?_  
  
[yep]  
  
_You're fucking perverted._  
  
[does that mean you or the author is the sicko in this situation? i'm obviously dictated by someone...]  
  
_Let's not forget comic cannon_  
  
[which is usually a lot more light-hearted than this scenario friend]  
  
_God, I am so confused. Is this the author sending reprimanding themself. If so, don't blame yourself, kid, this is AO3. anything goes._  
  
[and there's the self-reassurance]  
  
Is it possible to have a headache twice at the same time?  
  
Fingers suddenly snap in front of my face, and I realise I've been zoning out. Peter looks a little less angry at me now, which means he probably has too much of an idea of what's going on in my head.  
  
"Wade? Stop freaking out. You're not going anywhere until you're thinking straight again."  
  
[eternity is a long time]  
  
"Fuck you... Not you, Pete."  
  
He still looks annoyed as he sighs, "Did you even consider what would happen if you went out and did what you're thinking about doing."  
  
[unfortunately]  
  
"Uh... kinda."  
  
[god i'm sick of this conversation. can we just get this over with?]  
  
"He'll just catch us before we can react."  
  
"God dammit, Wade. Stop scheming!"  
  
"Can't help it, Pete. It's not gonna stop, can you just try not to get involved in this?"  
  
"I'm already involved. I'm the cause of it, in any case."  
  
"You're never the cause of my insanity, Pete. That's all me."  
  
"Can you just... Move away from the door? It's got me on-edge"  
  
[still here fam]  
  
"Ugh, you have no idea how badly I need to just-"  
  
"Nope." He grabs my arm and starts dragging me over to the couch again. He pushes me down and then starts rummaging in the medicine cabinet.  
  
[how do you say that Welsh town again? LlanFair is the first part right? which is that weird Welsh 'L' sound and then 'fire' but with a 'v' sound. then it's PwllGwynGyll which is pronounced like-]  
  
Peter walks back over with a glass of water and a handful of pills. A big handful of pills.  
  
"Ugh, those things make me stupid, and the effects don't last long."  
  
"Long enough to get your head on straight."  
  
[you ready for a round of remembering everything that made us this fucked-up in explicit detail, or would you rather listen to me remember how to pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogar-]  
  
_It's a tough call._  
  
[give it five minutes and you're gonna feel real embarrassed about saying that]  
  
"I don't know if flashbacks and an inability to form coherent sentences qualifies as 'straight'."  
  
Peter took a seat beside me and leant forward to place the pills and glass on the coffee table. He falls back on the couch silently and stares up at the ceiling as he speaks, "I'm still not getting any sleep tonight, am I?"  
  
[it's kinda hard to describe the pronunciation of 'ych'. kinda like the sound you make when you touch gum under the desk. 'wyrn' is just like saying 'win', and 'drobwll' is like saying 'drob' and then 'pull' without the 'p'. 'llantysilio' is pronounced like-]  
  
"Uh... I can't think."  
  
Peter gestured to the coffee table pointedly.  
  
"Won't be able to think on that, either."  
  
"At least you won't be suicidal."  
  
I scoff, "Oh, I will be. I'll just be more considerate of how you feel about it."  
  
"Is this seriously all because of what I said earlier? I thought nothing would surprise you..."  
  
"It didn't surprise me. Which is probably worse."  
  
[-and then gogogogh is like 'goh' twice and then 'gogh' as in van gogh when it's pronounced correctly]  
  
_Fuck it, I'm taking it._  
  
[oh no you don't I just mastered it. all together now! llanfair! pwllgwyngyll! gogarychwyrndrobwll! llantysilio! gogogogh!]  
  
I reach over to take the pills, and Curly comes back full force.  
  
{holy fuck! you're not seriously considering going through that kind of hell!}  
  
[lol you're about to shut off the illusion of a personification of your mother's hands shielding your eyes from the horror scene that is your life have fun]  
  
_Is this worth it? Can't we just run away and live on a humble farm in Iceland? Who said we can't be single!?_  
  
[your funeral man but i think you're about to make a mistake]  
  
{you know for once we all agree on something! it's a sign bitch read it before you miss the intersection}  
  
_We're doing it for Peter._  
  
[welp prepare yourself for a hearty game of Seven Minutes in Hell!]  
  
{can i leave again?}  
  
[you'll be forced to in a minute]  
  
{damn we've really made a decision on this}  
  
[no going back now, they're down]  
  
{awe, Pete's eyes are all wide and proud. that's adorable.}  
  
[the things we do for that kid]  
  
{oh shit, I can feel it}  
  
[I can feel it, Dave. My mind is going!]  
  
{fuck, how old are we?}  
  
[not old enough to have been around for that film]  
  
{but old enough to have seen it for the culture}  
  
[...]  
  
{dude, you there?}  
  
[...]  
  
{hooboy flashback no.1. camera!

lights!

action!}  
  
_Oh, this is fun._  
  
{are you processing Pete's face right now because the kid looks concerned. maybe try not showing outward displays of whatever the fuck that memory is. is that an anal probe? nope it's Pete's hand. oh and now it's a syringe. i love syringes with blue solutions in them! reminds me of the good old days. it's a bird! it's a plane! it's Ajax with a chain!}  
  
_Can you stop desperately clinging to life and let me deal with this in peace?_  
  
{...}  
  
_Oh, thank fuck._  
  
{just kidding! bet you thought you'd gotten rid of me before you were five minutes in.}  
  
"Sweet Jesus... Fucking hell."  
  
{you said that out loud, budd}  
  
"Yes, I know, asshole. Pete, can you stop waving your hands about? I'll come to a lot faster if I stop seeing surgical instruments waving around in front of me where your hands are supposed to be."  
  
_You still there?_  
  
"Sorry. Does it help if you have something physical to anchor to?"  
  
{...}  
  
_You better not be shitting me._  
  
{...}  
  
"Yeah, it helps." I hold my hand out absently, so that he can take it. It does help.  
  
"Hey, you there?"  
  
"Never left, baby boy."  
  
"What happened just then?"  
  
"Flashback."  
  
"I know, but-"  
  
"If I talk about it, I'll remember it. Try to distract me, I'm not used to being able to remember things in this much detail."  
  
"Are the voices gone?"  
  
"As of a few seconds ago."  
  
"Feel better?"  
  
"Wish I could say yes."  
  
"Still wanna 'go out'?" he made little quote gestures around the word.  
  
"Yeah, but not with you still conscious."  
  
"Definitely not getting any sleep tonight, then."  
  
"Remind me why you're putting me through this?"  
  
"So I can get a serious word out of you."  
  
_Shit._

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! so this has gotten a fair bit of attention, being a popular ship, and i'd like to take this opportunity to gather all my unpublished works in progress and make them all tie together through my oc, Marzanna.
> 
> on the one hand, the idea i've got would span over a time period of a whopping 1 and a half years, tying in with Spider-Man: Homecoming and possibly, POSSIBLY, Avengers: Infinity War. it would be epic, and the plot i have prepared for it is really great.
> 
> on the other hand, i get that you're all just here for a lil spideypool trash and, while you could just read this on its own, it would make much more sense if you read parts 2 and 3 as well.
> 
> and there's a second issue... i'm actually trying to write an original work, which is really intensive because i'm creating a universe from scratch. so basically... imma need your support on this one. i'm going to write the next chapter which will begin the smooth transition into this crazy plotline i have prepared but i will ONLY continue with the series if it gets enough attention.
> 
> ... and if you like my oc. 
> 
> leave kudos and comments if you're interested.
> 
> update: may not continue this. sorry, i'm just a bit drained and i'm working on an absolutely massive original piece (which may literally take me decades. and i don't mean 'literally' as in not-literally-lmao-language-is-fake. i mean l i t e r a l l y ). if i get more comments i may push myself to continue so we'll see. hope you enjoyed it despite its abrupt end (possibly. might continue. MIGHT)


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